


overheat

by Xorxos Brook (cdra)



Series: pandora hearts: hentai au [1]
Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6831091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdra/pseuds/Xorxos%20Brook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something in her core was already aware of, even <i>waiting for</i>, Reim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	overheat

**Author's Note:**

> The premise here: some contractors have “cycles” based on some kind of weird chain reproduction thing, usually a chain is either “feminine” or “masculine” (nothing to do with the contractor’s or chain’s apparent gender)  but they also sometimes flip-flop depending on factors like what other chains/contractors they’re around or whatever. They have a thing you take to keep people from being affected by it because it’d be especially bad if it happened while you were fighting or something but sometimes stuff happens. So it's a tiny bit like an ABO verse, I guess, but with additional fluidity and only affecting certain people.
> 
> Also Break is afab and using she/her pronouns for some reason. w/e. I consider Xerx to be gender-neutral anyway, so...

 

She’s _ burning up _ , far hotter than usual; ordinarily, this is just an annoying fog to be cleared out by a bit of space, a drink, the proper suppressants, but as it is Xerxes is certain she couldn’t even  _ stand _ .  Instead, she’s merely curled up in her sheets (they’re cooler than her skin, exposure is still all too anxiety-inducing), gasping (as if that could cool her off,  _ hah! _ ) into her arms and hiding her face (from  _ who? _ it doesn’t matter that she’s alone; just thinking about what sort of expression she must be wearing is unbearably shameful) — surely she can gather the strength to do something about this in a matter of time.

Her breath stops for a moment and her eye shoots open as she hears the door to her room open and close — though she immediately wishes to protest (I’ll be fine, just leave me alone, don’t look at me), something strikes her senses and makes a current flick down her spine instead.  Even before she hears a familiar voice wonder “Xerxes?” she  _ knows  _ who it is — something in her core was already aware of, even  _ waiting for _ Reim — did he notice the way the Hatter had nervously excused herself from the meeting before?  He’s too observant for his own good, and far too easily worried — Xerxes only curls in on herself more as she hears the other’s footsteps draw nearer (and more than that,  _ whatever  _ it is that’s  _ overwhelming _ her sense of space grows stronger).

“Xerxes, are you alright?”

It’s terribly hard to form words among her ragged breaths (something in the air is gumming her thoughts together, is it because  _ he’s _ here?), but she does her best to scratch together an answer.  “I just — need to be alone.”

Of course, that isn’t very convincing (she knew it wouldn’t be, but she’s too damned stubborn not to try); Reim’s by the edge of the bed now (too close, it’s getting even harder to breathe) as he lets out a disapproving grumble.  “I don’t believe you, somehow.”

She laughs a little, burying her face into her arms even more — of course not, it couldn’t be that easy.  “It’s — a fairly normal issue — I just — need a moment —”

“Is it that… contract cycle?”

That’s right — Reim hasn’t had his contract for long at all, has he?  Still, the basics of the issue must have been explained to him — the nature of it can be unpredictable.  Xerxes manages a small, affirmative hum as she shifts a bit, pulling in a hiss as her legs rub together — she has to shoo the other off somehow if she’s going to make any progress with this situation, considering that it’s taking all of her willpower to merely stay  _ still _ .

“Then you have something to take for it, right?  I’ll get that and a glass of water, just hang on.”

She laughs a bit — ‘just hang on’, as though she could do anything  _ else! _  “You don’t have to —” she manages, but Reim is already on his way out of the room, far too stubborn and helpful for the albino’s tastes.  But whatever was in the air hasn’t left — it’s like a  _ scent  _ hanging heavy in the Hare’s wake, feeding the fire in Xerxes’s nervous system which makes her thoughts fizzle into nothing and her skin prick with sensitivity.  Shouldn’t it be fading away, if anything, if it really has to do with her friend being here?  (Somehow, she knows that’s the case, even though she has no reason to be so certain.)  But it only seems to be ramping up instead, and her breath hitches suddenly when she catches her hand sliding down her hip — despite herself, Xerxes notes that that  _ alone  _ is a sign of her  _ resignation _ .

As if her subconscious had broken the only barrier she had left to her shame, her fingers shakily find their way underneath her clothes and into her underwear; she’s shamefully wet and  _ sensitive _ , her other hand immediately clasping over her mouth to hold back any sounds she may make — if she  _ has  _ to curb this problem in such a manner, she still doesn’t want to hear her voice that way.  But even the most tentative touch is overpowering (when was the last time she ventured to explore this shame-laced part of her body?) and she can’t muffle the sound of her shaky breaths from inside her own head (in fact, she may only be making them louder, but she’s not thinking about that).

She moves slowly (as slowly as she can  _ stand _ ), gingerly reminding herself of her own anatomy — one finger slides upward into her slit and then another (it’s easy to do, even though she’s not used to it at all anymore, on account of how embarrassingly slick it’s gotten), and just as she’s starting to get used to the burning excess of sensation, she hears the door open and close once more.

Immediately she curses herself — in such a short time, did it really completely slip her mind that Reim was coming straight back?  And yet, in this position, she somehow can’t will herself to  _ stop  _ — in fact, the urge to  _ continue  _ only spikes further as his presence draws closer and closer.

With the way she’s gasping (muffling it  _ really  _ isn’t that effective) and squirming to her own touch, it must be completely obvious to him what’s happening — her fingers slide up to cover her eye rather than her mouth and she manages to mutter, “Don’t — look at me —  _ please… _ ”

She has no intention of turning to see whether or not he’ll heed that plea, though — rather, she only curls in tighter as she finds a stable rhythm, her palm situated to stimulate her most sensitive point, and with another loud hitch of her breath her fingers ball into the sheets in front of her.  Her body seems to be acting on its own, now, and she can only trust that he won’t look — indeed, she trusts him far more than she can explain, and some part of her doesn’t wish to hide  _ anything  _ from him at  _ all _ , no matter how shameful.

Her hips rock and dimly she notes the sensation of the mattress shifting — is he _ sitting on the bed? _  She can’t will herself to turn and look (he’d definitely see her face, then — not that that brief thought matters much, since her focus is entirely elsewhere), only to try to restrain any sounds louder than merely her labored breath as her fingers march along with shallow thrusts.

One red eye stares heavy-lidded and unfocused at her fingertips digging into the mattress, clawing into the sheets as if she’s trying to hold on — and perhaps she is, still, just trying to hold on to a semblance of proper behavior, to some shred of her usual dignity (or whatever it is), before it too slips away into the pulsing fire of her core and she does something  _ unthinkable  _ (if she laid herself before him, offered him such a sinful body and shameful expression alike, then what would  _ happen? _ the thought makes her gasp and tense up more, how disgusting of her).

Only a moment passes (though truthfully, her sense of time is entirely warped) before she finds her way to her peak and she cannot prepare for the way she cries out as the intense pleasure pulses through her — for a moment she can’t even worry what a lewd, strangled sound it was, and that Reim is still there and can surely hear it, for the relief (however momentarily) she’s been provided.  Her muscles fall slack and she removes her hand (now thoroughly wet, a reminder of what’s transpired) from its position, wiping what she can of her own fluid along a pale thigh as her breath slowly stabilizes.

“Here.”  His voice pulls her back to the reality of the moment (not hastily;  _ gently _ , as if jostling her from a particularly heavy sleep) and she grumbles something meaningless as she shifts, pointedly not looking his way.  An irritated clicking sound comes and then the mattress creaks as Reim turns (so he really wasn’t looking?), holding out a glass of water over her form.

Begrudgingly, she sits up a bit, making a point to use her clean hand to take the glass (she doesn’t want any trace of what just happened anywhere near him, or something might grow out of those notions); she takes a sip as he turns toward her more thoroughly, now offering the suppressant from his other hand.  “It’ll be alright after you take this, right?”

“Mm.”  She doesn’t care to provide more answer than that, what with her head still pounding — no, something else is wrong.  As she reaches for his hand, the fog only seems to spread faster and thicker than before, making her freeze in place as she shudders, every urge from moments before lighting up all the brighter in her mind.  It’s him, she wants  _ him _ , just dealing with it herself won’t be enough, especially as long as he’s there and messing with her head like this — everything in her body is commanding her to  _ take him here _ as her skin pricks and her groin calls attention to itself once more, aroused and  _ needy _ to punctuate her intrusive thoughts.

“Xerx?”  Of course, he’s just so softly  _ worried  _ as she sways a bit — he must understand, so why is he being so utterly  _ caring  _ and not at all  _ disgusted  _ or  _ ashamed  _ by all of this?  That’s just another reason she likes him — and where did  _ that  _ notion come from?  Reim scoots closer, taking her pale fingers in his (his hands have gotten so  _ big  _ since back when, and yet, they’re  _ smoother  _ than her sword-calloused ones, however fragile they  _ look _ ) and gently placing the tablet in her palm.  “Are you sure this will be enough?  You look really…”

She can’t  _ stand  _ it, even the tiniest bit of contact with his  _ skin  _ and hearing him  _ speak  _ is too much — she takes his hand and his shoulder and presses him into the bed, letting the water glass fall forgotten onto the floor beside them.  Her eye is a bit glazed as she looks him over from astride his waist— she wants to  _ devour  _ him, slowly touch and memorize and savor the way he’s made, but her body is far beyond patience already — a smirk forms on her thin lips as her fingers wander down to his crotch, earning a conflicted hitching from his throat.

Xerxes lets out a pleased hum at the sound, and moreso, at what she’s  _ found _ .  “Hmm~?  So you  _ were  _ watching...?  Or did you get like this from just  _ listening~? _ ”

“N-no, I wasn’t — h-hold on, you have to —”

Beyond the mood for protests (she  _ knows  _ she’s out of her mind, she  _ knows  _ she has to stop, but she simply  _ can’t _ ), she presses her lips to his to shut him up (how  _ cliche _ , or something) and curls her fingers around the growing hardness in his pants.  Even though he seems so much more put-together than her, still trying to stop this madness as he is, the situation is  _ surely  _ having an effect on Reim as well with how his body tenses into her hands and tentatively welcomes her kiss (she could drown in that alone, and she hasn’t even gotten  _ started _ yet).

For a moment she breaks the kiss, taking a moment to undo his shirt — she wants to be  _ closer  _ to him, as close as  _ possible _ , even though she doesn’t have the patience to  _ entirely  _ remove his layers of clothing (really, why are these uniforms so complicated?) — his chest being bare is better than nothing.  “Xerxes, this isn’t — you’re not acting right, you shouldn’t do this —”

“I know,” she whispers flatly, arching her back as she leans close to his face.  “I’m — I know.  But — it won’t go away otherwise...”  Her hands knot into her friend’s hair as she leans closer still, close enough that she can feel his accelerated breathing.  “So... I hope you’ll forgive me.”

With that, she locks their lips together again, not letting him respond — she doesn’t want to know what he’ll say, because no matter what, it won’t change what she’s going to  _ do  _ and that  _ terrifies  _ her as much as anything.  This time, her tongue edges its way into his mouth, and to her amusement and relief he allows it — he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but she’s not concerned with that, just revelling in the simple pleasure of being intertwined with him like this.

But, her patience is worn terribly thin by now — she grinds her hips down on his, taking in the way he tenses and rolls against her body in kind.  Her hands are preoccupied with his head, despite how short his hair is — it’s a welcome texture, she’s in command of the situation — but feeling his erection through their clothes reminds her that she has something more  _ important  _ to attend to.

Her hands move downward and the kiss loosens, though she can’t bring herself to totally separate from him again; instead, it just grows lazy, lips and tongues moving slowly together, but each time it almost breaks off Xerxes pushes closer to renew it.  Delicate fingertips trail down Reim’s chest, noting how well he’s built (especially considering that he’s a  _ secretary _ ) as they make their way to his pants.  Buttons come undone steadily, both his and hers (and yet, even now, she doesn’t remove her own shirt — at least that’s a breath of sanity she’ll be thankful for), but she doesn’t bother completely removing his pants, either — though her own have to go to keep her straddling him, his position is fine as it is.

Reluctantly, she pulls away from his face, placing her fingertips on his cock experimentally (the way his hips tense immediately and he gasps — she could end up even  _ more  _ drunk on his reactions, like this).  She looks it over as she slowly strokes it, a grin spreading on her face again; “Ahh… it seems that Reim’s quite  _ big _ , too…”

A small sputtering sound escapes him and he looks away sharply; based on the flush creeping over his skin, he’s getting dragged into this as well, isn’t he?  (Good, better not to be  _ alone  _ in her madness, and were she to choose a  _ companion  _ in most things, he would be her first choice.)  Xerxes chuckles as she slides her hips into position, allowing a small moan free as she grinds against his hip — ah, the contrast of his warm, dark skin against her nigh- _ sickly _ pale color, what is it about that that seems so pleasant, like a dash of milk into black tea?

Her hips settle astride his; she takes care to position their most sensitive points together, and she can’t help that another lewd sound leaves her throat as they touch — her expression must be dreadfully immodest, too, flushed bright with her blood having crept to the surface of her skin to fuel her tactile sensitivity.  “ _Ah_ — w-wait — _!_ ”  Even now, Reim can protest that much (though, it isn’t very convincing with those half-moans breaking up his words), still looking away; it must be nice, being in that much control of these urges.

Xerxes turns her eye up to him pointedly, staying still for just a moment as she examines him — evidently sensing her gaze, almond eyes turn up to meet red, and surely her expression speaks for itself.  A lopsided smirk slowly forms as she pants; “Are you really… not affected by it at all?” and (politely, of course) punctuates her question with a roll of her hips (to which of course he moans a bit — but as fun as it is to bother him, she actually does want to know).

He looks away again, ashamed, and during a brief interval of silence his hips begin to rock as well — somehow, she’s willing to wait just a few more seconds to watch him like this, desperately denying the obvious problem — before he finally looks back up at her from behind his spectacles.  “It’s — this hasn’t ever happened before.  I just — I haven’t —”

She leans down again, smiling mischievously as she purrs, “Oh, so you’re nervous~ _? _ ”  The small noise of surprise he gives as he looks at her (for the first time, she wants those eyes to  _ stay  _ on her, to witness every bit of this insanity and take  _ her  _ in) is enough of an answer for her state of mind; she positions herself just a bit better, humming when she feels him shudder at the slightest friction.  “Hmhm, how  _ cute _ ~” she mutters, pointedly breathing against his neck; ”I’ll take care of all the hard work, so don’t worry...” (she’ll  _ have  _ him, make him as completely wrapped up in  _ her  _ as she is in  _ him  _ right now,  _ ruin  _ that beautiful innocence with her own hands —)  “You’ll enjoy yourself, too.”

With a moan she steadily slides her hips down, taking him inside readily — a heated current rocks her nerves and rewards her patience (but all the same, her lack of  _ restraint _ ), intensifying until she has him completely inside — at which point she pauses to adjust to the rush of sensation, her fingers gripping tight around his waist.  Reim’s breathing has already grown far more erratic (wait, did he mean to say he’d never  _ done this before? _ ) along with hers; he seems to be staring into space, not looking at her in particular, and with a hum she rocks her hips to catch his attention (successfully enough, since he’s staring her in the eye now).

“Ahaha… don’t be afraid to watch, Reim~” she breathes — and with that she starts to move, seeking out a satisfactory angle as he gasps, obviously overwhelmed, but when she feels his hands latch onto her hips as well Xerxes can only smile and give another small laugh.  This is madness, surely, where she’d  _ ask  _ for attention to be placed on her, where she’d revel in being  _ touched  _ and in dragging such a precious light  _ down  _ into her darkness, but that notion is too lukewarm against the heat coursing through her to have any real impact.

A loud moan escapes her as she finds her angle, her back straightening suddenly before she falls back into a more comfortable configuration; her nails dig into Reim’s sides she slides up and down in shallow thrusts (she doesn’t have the patience left for long ones), occasionally rolling her hips around to bring in a change of stimulus.  Horribly lewd, wet sounds are filling the room along with their mixed unsteady breathing and snatches of other shameful sounds from their lips — yet, for once, she couldn’t get enough of that and the way his eyes turn down from her body shyly even as he grips onto her and occasionally jerks his hips toward her, unconsciously seeking  _ more  _ as well.

It’s like scratching an impossible itch — the more she moves, the more she  _ needs  _ in order to relieve the burning in her core, and every jolt of pleasure just seems to make her crave another and another until it’s just a mess of “more” that her mind is stuck on, her body naturally taking point to maintain her rhythm and push her closer and closer to the end she’s seeking.  She’s likely never been this  _ loud  _ with what she’s feeling (physically or  _ otherwise _ ), but any sense of shame that’d normally hold back her moaning and gasping is completely burned up by now, not to return until after the fire is settled.

She’s caught off guard as Reim sits up — for just a second, she stares blankly at him, and then she finds herself flipped onto her back beneath him (like this, isn’t this more her place?  she’s his to take, if he’ll have her).  He’s every bit as disheveled as she is, eyes glassy, panting as he slides out of his half-removed trousers — she takes a moment to chuckle at him, but before she can make any sort of quip he takes her thighs in hand and presses inside her again (he’s lost his patience as well — that’s good, she wouldn’t have it any other way) to elicit another cry from her throat.

Even if he’s inexperienced, instinct seems to take hold as he thrusts — it’s enough, easily, on top of suddenly being repositioned like this (like she’s lost the last shred of control she had over this matter; now, she’s completely at its mercy, at  _ his  _ mercy) to find her fingers clenching the sheets as her back arches up (closer, they’re connected like this but she wants to be  _ closer _ ).  He mutters her name between his gasps and she can’t answer with anything but snatches of pleas (“more” and “please” and other words she’s not sure of the meaning of by now) and desperate shifts of her body beneath him.

It’s not much longer before she lets out a particularly high gasp, her ankles looping behind his back to hold him close as her entire body tenses up, something white-hot clearing through her frazzled mind and body — she moans a bit more, hardly breathing as it grips her, before her body falls slack again.  Her awareness hasn’t quite returned before she feels him tense as well, pressing into her deeply as he moans, his fingers digging into her thighs — he’s spent, as well, she can feel the proof of that inside her as slowly, the haze begins to clear from her thoughts as she tries to steady her breathing.

Reim separates from her (even now, she’s somehow a bit regretful of that, wouldn’t it be easier to simply stay in that madness?), falling back slightly onto his hands as he, too, breathes uneasily (but more quietly — things will be normal again soon, won’t they?).  She’s tired, her body feels horribly unsteady, but she sits up regardless — she needs to prove to him that she’s alright, she can’t have him worrying further, and yet, she doesn’t want to face him.

“Are you…?” he speaks first — damn him, why is he so worried over her, caring for her when  _ she’s  _ the one who’s done something horrible?

“I’m alright, yes.”  She supports herself on shaky arms as she mumbles, “Really, this time.”  Indeed, with that strange haze sated for the moment, Xerxes is certain that she’ll be alright for the time being — still, she doesn’t feel any better about that, considering their position.  “Are you?  I…” she’s not sure what to say — she dragged him into such a strange situation,  _ forced  _ him along like that — she looks down, unwilling to meet his expression.

But to her surprise (or, half of it, anyway), Reim just chuckles, sliding to the edge of the bed; “I’m fine, Xerx.”  He picks up the forgotten water glass (somehow, it isn’t broken) and sets it on the nightstand — as she glances at him, she notes that he isn’t looking her way, either (not that she blames him, it must be so strange to see her like this).  She pulls a sheet over her body; even if it smells so strongly of  _ him  _ now, she’d rather be covered up, and she doesn’t have the willpower to find the bits of her clothes that she discarded.

“You should… probably take this, though.”  Reim notes, placing a new suppressant tab by the glass, “But… I’ll leave you to that, I guess.”  With that, he shuffles to fix his uniform piece by piece; Xerxes stares for a moment at the tablet before pulling into herself with a chuckle.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Of course he’d say that — she lets out a sigh, watching him right his outfit with a lopsided grin.  If she had the nerve to apologize, of course he’d dismiss it like that — how fantastically annoying he could be sometimes.

The brunet re-ties his scarf and turns to his friend, still watching him lightly; “It’s not something you could help, right?  I… It’s fine, really.  You needed help, and I helped.”

Is that really it, she wonders?  Of course not — she shakes her head, giving another dry chuckle.  “I’m sure that was your  _ only  _ motivation~”

He coughs slightly, turning away — he’s still a bit red from the ordeal, isn’t he?  Of course, he’s still terribly fun to tease, even in such a strange situation — in fact, it’s nice to just act like nothing odd happened at all, to let the moment disappear into the air just for now, and perhaps Reim understands that as he turns to leave.

“Just take your medicine, okay?”

“Of course~”

She waves him away dismissively; once the door shuts behind him, though, she flops onto her side with a ragged sigh — it’s not like she could explain, after all.  It’d be better if he didn’t know that she had, in fact, been taking them quite faithfully — not until she knows just why this happened despite that, at least.  There has to be some sort of explanation — but the only time she’d heard of this happening…

...No, thinking about those kinds of  _ feelings  _ is too far-fetched.  She curls up, still surrounded in his smell (how is it still so comforting?) as she resolves herself to nap for a moment — perhaps all of this nonsense will blow away when she wakes up.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the longest piece of utter garbage i've ever written. just fyi.


End file.
